


Hunger

by AudreyHorneFeelsDreamy



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: F/M, Internal musings, Road Trip, Suicidal Thoughts, ice cream truck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyHorneFeelsDreamy/pseuds/AudreyHorneFeelsDreamy
Summary: Lauras mind wanders while driving the ice cream truck, and she'd not sure how welcome her train of thought is.





	Hunger

Death was a curious thing, Laura mused to herself as she drove the ice cream truck along the back road, the drunken lilting of the tune, once a siren call to children in nice suburbs, now sounded like a B movie horror score, lurching from key to key as if trying to be deliberately spooky.  
She… Hungered.  
At first she’d tried to pinpoint it.  
Was it food she wanted?  
The idea of food was there, the notion of it, like remembering something you enjoyed as a child, finger painting, eating crayons, eating seemed to be something she looked back on fondly without any wish, or even ability, to act on impulse.  
Likewise drinking.  
Not alcohol, she could knock back that quite easily she found, but it was more out of habit than need, although she felt drier than a match head inside, like someone had dehydrated her organs to wrinkly prunes that sat ineffectually in her body.  
She felt like she could drain a lake of water and never sate that thirst.  
Maybe sex?  
She glanced across to the passenger seat as that thought flitted across her brain, and as she did, Sweeney grunted in his sleep, bundled up against the cold of the van despite the heat outside, a hitched snort that turned into a strangled snore that made her roll her eyes and look back at the road, and as it rolled away under them, she let her thoughts wander to Shadow.  
Shadow was good at sex, and she smiled to herself at the thought, but…  
But.  
Frowning a little, she tightened her hands on the wheel.  
Their first time together had been raw, some might say passionate, but for her, the biggest thrill had been the recklessness of inviting a stranger into her home to fuck.  
A stranger significantly bigger than her, a self confessed criminal, had she even found him attractive?  
Of course he was attractive, anyone with eyes could look at Shadow and say, yup, there goes one attractive man, but she hadn’t noticed, or maybe, he wasn’t so special that it mattered.  
Her arousal was more to do with how careless she was with her life at that point, and if he’d taken her home and raped and murdered her, she might have watched it from outside her body with nothing more than bored acceptance.  
But he hadn’t.  
He’d been rough, once she goaded him, but he’d fallen for her, perhaps even before she lay back on the couch for him.  
Sad little puppy following her around, and the teeth he’d flashed her briefly when they met at her table that first night, were never seen again.  
They drifted, or rather, she did.  
Into a relationship, a cohabitation… a marriage.  
How long before she’d popped out a couple of kids?  
How long before she found the courage to dump the kids at school and down a bottle of vodka and a bottle of pills before pulling the lid over the hot tub one last time.  
For a short moment, she thought he was what she needed, but he’d only been a temporary escape from herself, but sadly, she was always there.  
Robbie was the same.  
A bandaid, a valium, something to make her feel better.  
But it didn’t work, it never worked, she only felt worse, more empty than before, as though through the act they took a little more of her with them each time, leaving her husked out and cold.  
But the hunger.  
The hunger was still there.  
She looked across at Sweeney again, frowning a little.  
He wasn’t unattractive, his shock of copper hair and severe beard were unique, something… different… The kind of thing Shadow and Robbie might have laughed about together.  
His features seemed just a little too large for his face, but he was a big man, with hands like shovels, hands more suited to damage than loving.  
She liked that.  
She’d thought that about Shadow to start, but then found out his hands were soft, his touch reverent to the point where she didn’t want him to touch her often.  
A leprechaun…. Fairyfolk. What had she heard of them? They give and they take away, petty and spiteful if their needs weren’t met quickly.  
She liked that as well, although she was still working on the whole leprechaun thing.  
Perhaps if she hadn’t of been slowly decaying, she might have wanted to see what it would be like to sleep with him.  
Just to know.  
She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, his contempt was only a sliver away from desire, as so often it was, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to tip him over the edge a little, to persuade him to lay her down.  
She thought about the size of his body over hers, the animal squirm of fear she felt every time at the thought of being pinned, trapped under someone, and she thought about the hardness of his body against her own softness, the way his muscles were sinewy rather than rounded gently like Shadows, how pale his skin might seem against her.  
She wondered if he had a smattering of freckles along his shoulders, across his back, a constellation to match the ones that ran cheek to cheek across the bridge of his nose, a curiously boyish trait that only just fitted his well fought face.  
She thought about his hands on her waist, her sides, her breasts… slowly closing around her throat.  
His hands would be like steel, and she’d lay like a trapped animal under him, still with fear, breathing shallow and ragged, fading to nothing as he tightened his grip. And maybe he’d do that while he fucked her, because surely his hands were big enough that he’d only need one?  
She wanted to claw at him. She wanted him to wrap her hair around his fist and fuck her like he hated her. She wanted someone to treat her with the same carelessness she treated herself.... She wanted...  
“Are we in fucking England now?”  
She startled a little at his voice and looked over at him, wrapped up like the kid from Christmas story, his cheeks rosy in the cold.  
He motioned to the windscreen and she realized she’d drifted to the opposite side of the road.  
“You may be dearly departed dead wife, but I’m in no rush to meet my maker thank you very much.”  
She snorted then reached over to hit him in the chest, making him wheeze as the air left his lungs.  
“Shut up… You try driving this thing without winding up all over the road, the steering shot to shit….”  
He only huffed in return, leaving his seat and heading towards the back to grab another ice cream.  
She watched him in the smashed rearview, frowning a little to herself.  
Yeah… She’d have tried.  
If she wasn’t already a dead girl.


End file.
